


The Twelve Dancing Princes

by Ribby



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-04-23
Updated: 2004-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29949162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ribby/pseuds/Ribby
Summary: A fairy tale based on the Brothers Grimm "Twelve Dancing Princesses."
Relationships: SB/VM
Kudos: 1





	The Twelve Dancing Princes

**Author's Note:**

> Notes and thanks: Whew! This has been cluttering up my hard drive for almost four months, but it's done! *cheers* This one is for [](https://seleneheart.livejournal.com/profile)[](https://seleneheart.livejournal.com/)**seleneheart** , who in addition to writing gorgeous fairy tales of her own (and prompting this one and one more in the works!), is a most excellent and thorough beta... *smooch* Thanks, lovely! Any further errors and/or oddities are most definitely mine. *grin*

There was once, a long way from here and a long time ago, a king who had twelve sons, each one more handsome than the other. The king doted on each one of them, as their mother had died birthing a last, thirteeth son (who had died with his mother), and they were all he had left of their mother, by all accounts a beautiful, kindly woman.

But strange things were happening... the king, when he went to greet his sons as he did every morning, found in each of their rooms a pair of dancing shoes, worn through at the heels. And yet not one of the sons could explain how their shoes got that way. Frightened, the king moved all twelve of his sons to one large room, where they slept together side by side. Every night the king locked and barred the door with the key he kept around his neck; but every morning, when he opened the door, he found his sons' shoes, worn out with dancing.

The king issued a proclamation that anyone who discovered where his sons danced at night would rule the kingdom after him with one of his sons; but anyone who undertook the task and did not find the answer in three days and nights would forfeit his life.

King's sons from other realms, lord's younger sons, and peasant sons, all hungry for land and rule of their own, undertook the enterprise, but none succeeded. Each fell asleep while he waited, and woke when the king opened the door the next morning, for three nights, and not one could solve the riddle-and each forfeited his life.

The king was distraught--was there no one in all the world who could solve this mystery?

**********

Now it came to pass that a soldier, who had known nothing else in his life other than soldiering, found himself at loose ends with the end of a long war, having fought all these years in the king's name. He decided to travel to the king's city, for he had never seen it, and perhaps also see the king.

He had traveled several days, and was hungry, thirsty, and in need of rest. On the road to the king's city, he came across a small inn, set back from the road, and decided to stop for the night.

The inn, surprisingly, was empty, save for the innkeeper, a burly, dark-haired blue eyed man. A man, realized the soldier, whom he knew very well. The innkeeper had been his most trusted sergeant in the war, until he retired on a soldier's pension.

"Evenin', traveler." With a wink and a smile, the innkeeper greeted him. "Or should I say, evening, sir? Cup of tea for you?"

"Patrick! So this is where you ended up." The two of them embraced in a friendly bearhug, and Sean basked in the warmth and welcome of his friend. "I'm tired and thirsty, Pat. Spare me a pint and a meal?"

The innkeeper nodded, and pulled two pints of beer, one of which he placed in front of the soldier, the other which he quaffed himself in one long draught. "Tell me of your travels, sir, for I've missed you, so I have."

"Aye, and I you, Pat. No one to bring me tea in the morning, or roll his eyes at me for my stupidity." They both laughed at that, for it was quite true that Sean had done many questionable things in his soldiering time, and most of them with Patrick at his side, his conscience and guardian angel. "But let's get something straight, Pat. I'm retired, the war's over. It's Sean now, not 'sir.' And I reserve the right to thump you when you forget."

Patrick and Sean talked through several pints and a meal, of inconsequential things. But Patrick had always been a curious man, and his former captain hadn't said anything about his future. Throwing caution to the wind, Patrick asked straight out. "What brings you to the king's city?"

Sean started. Was his purpose that clear? "I hardly know myself; I'm a soldier without a war to fight, and I thought perhaps I'd go see the king for whom I've fought all these years."

Patrick grinned. "Well now, that's a relief, so it is. I'd thought you might be headed to the palace about the princes, and wouldn't that be a pity, to lose a man so fine as yourself."

"Princes? You mean the king's sons?"

"Aye, poor cursed lads that they are. D'ye not know the story then?"

Sean shook his head, and Patrick, ever the storyteller, grinned and launched into the sad tale.

When he'd finished, Sean breathed out a long sigh. "What a tangle. No-one's survived, you say?"

Patrick looked askance at him. "I don't like that look in your eye, so I don't, sir. You wouldn't be thinking...."

"I must. I don't know why, but something tells me I must... I've fought for the king all my life, what's one more fight for him?"

Patrick grimaced, but knew better than to try and change Sean's mind. "Well then, 'tis best you go off with a good night's rest and a full belly... stay the night here, and leave in the morning."

Sean agreed, and they sat late into the night, talking of everything and nothing, and when Sean could keep his eyes open no longer, he retired to the small room upstairs and slept, comforted and safe for the first time in many a month.

And Patrick? He spent the night praying to all the saints to protect his dear, brave friend--for without Patrick at his side, he'd need all the help he could get!

**********

Sean woke with the sun the next morning, but Patrick was already awake and, from the smells drifting up the stairs, preparing breakfast. After a quick but thorough wash, Sean dressed in his best clothes, and headed down to Patrick, carrying his sword and pack.

"Good morning, Patrick."

"Morning, sir... Sean," Patrick corrected himself, and dodging out of the way of Sean's mockingly raised fist. "I don't suppose there's any way I can talk you out of this, is there?"

"If anyone could, Patrick, you could... but my mind's made up."

"I know that, I just thought... well, have some breakfast then. And take this with you." Patrick handed him a cloak, light as air but deepest black.

"I don't..." Sean began, but Patrick pressed a finger to his lips.

"Hush. I can't give you much, but I can give you this... take it and my blessing."

Sean blinked away sudden tears. "You've given me more than you know. If... no, when I return, I'll come see you."

Patrick shook out the cloak and settled it around the soldier's broad shoulders. "Ah... good, it still works." He turned Sean to face the small looking-glass... and Sean gasped in surprise. All but his head was invisible. "You'll get further with this, s...Sean. And maybe it will help."

Touched, Sean removed the cloak, folded it carefully, and placed it in his pack.  
Patrick took Sean's head in his hands and slowly, reverently, kissed his forehead, his closed eyes, and his lips--not a kiss of passion, but of blessing. "May all the saints protect you and keep you safe." He buckled on Sean's sword, then pushed him to the door. "Go, before I decide to come with you on this fool's quest of yours."

"Goodbye, Patrick--I'll miss you looking out for me. I'll come back, I swear." Sean left, and started down the road. He looked back only once, to see Patrick still watching him from the doorway, smiled at him, then turned back to the road.

And Patrick watched him until he faded from sight.

**********

Sean walked through the king's city, slowly, admiring the beauty of it--all of white marble and stone, its many levels twisting up into the sky, it glowed in the sun like a jewel. There were people everywhere, and although few of them smiled, they greeted him cordially enough.

At the door to the king's palace, the guards there stopped him to ask his business. "I come to solve the mystery of the king's sons." he said, in a clear, ringing voice.

The guards frowned, and one said "You will not succeed. No one has."

"I may, I may not," said Sean peacefully, "But I certainly will not if I do not try."

The guards, knowing they could not change his mind, let him enter. He walked the length of a long hallway, also of white stone, but hung with beautiful tapestries showing scenes from the history of the city and the kingdom, done in bright colors. "When I have helped the king," Sean thought to himself, "I shall have to get him to tell me the stories of these tapestries." For he knew well enough that sometimes the only thing that got a person through an ordeal was something to look forward to after it was over.

The wide doors at the end of the hallway stood open, and he heard voices. He paused in the doorway, unsure of how to approach the king. But at that moment, the king looked up from the map he'd been studying, and noticed him. "What brings you here, soldier?" he asked kindly.

"Your majesty," Sean said, bowing quickly, "I wish to solve the riddle of your sons."

The king's hands clenched on the edge of the table, briefly, then he let go and walked slowly to where Sean stood.

Sean looked into the blue-grey eyes of the king, clouded with worry and sorrow, and knew, right then, that he would do anything for this man, anything at all, even if it meant his death.

"You are brave indeed, soldier. If you know of my sons, then you know no one has succeded, and all who have tried and failed are dead. Will you enbrace your own death?"

"I will, my lord. I was a soldier in your army--death and I are no strangers to each other. And... " here Sean stopped for a moment, unsure of his words, "I have fought to keep your lands safe for many years--I would do no less to keep you happy."

The king, unexpectedly, smiled, and it turned his face radiant and beautiful. Sean caught his breath--that smile made the threat of death worth it. "You are a loyal man, my soldier." He laughed. "I cannot keep calling you that. What is your name?"

"Sean, my lord."

"If you are certain you must do this" he broke off to search Sean's face. "You are, I see that. Very well, at dusk, come back to this hall, and I will take you to my sons."

"Thank you, my lord."

"Go then, Sean, and take my hopes and blessing with you." Cupping Sean's face, he repeated Patrick's gesture, kissing Sean's forehead, closed eyelids, and lips... and lingering a moment longer than was proper, Sean thought, at his lips. "Be safe, _otarnya._ My warrior."

"My lord," Sean answered, "I will." _If only to hear your stories, and have you kiss me again_ , he thought, then bowed and left the hall.

**********

With time on his hands, Sean wandered back into the city, and stopped at the first tavern he came to--it had been a long journey and a drink would not go amiss. The tavern was not crowded, but had enough people to be friendly--and many of them soldiers, which boded well for the quality of the ale. Sean ordered a pint of the local brew from the barkeep, then made his way to an empty table.

The beer was excellent, rich but not heavy ... and he was soon joined by several other soldiers (for a soldier can always tell another soldier, especially in a tavern). Talk was light, for Sean did not wish to alienate these men with talk of his mission, and there was much laughter. When one of the younger recruits, drunk on the local wine (not much better than swill, Sean was told, and certainly no match for the beer), tried flirting with the tavern lass and was soundly slapped for his trouble, one of the older soldiers at Sean's table sighed. "The weakness of every man is wine," he said with laughter in his voice. "Except mine, and yours I notice, my lad."

Sean laughed. "Never got a taste for it, friend."

The older man sobered. "That will serve you well, lad, for wine is many a man's downfall, especially now."

Sean laughed, finished his drink, and rose to go. "Thanks for the advice... I'll take it to heart." The older man's hand shot out and grabbed his wrist.

"Do, lad. Not a drop for you tonight--promise me that?" Unsettled, but wishing to leave, Sean promised, and hurried away when the old man let him go.

_Crazy old soldier_ , he thought. Oh well, he truly did not like wine, so the promise was not difficult. Whistling an old melody, he made his way back to the castle, and to his king.

**********

The king was waiting for him when he returned, looking grave, but still beautiful. Around his neck was a golden key, which Sean knew went to the doors of the princes' chamber.

"I must ask you once more, Sean--do you still wish to undertake this task?"

"My lord, I do. I have said so, and I do not go back on my word." There was a flash of pain in the king's grey eyes, but he stood resolute, and without another word, turned and walked out of the main audience chamber and down the hallway, Sean following quietly in his wake.

The king stopped in front of a pair of double doors. "My sons' chamber. Once you go in, I will lock the door behind you, and it will not open again until morning. If you have solved the riddle, one of my sons and my kingdom will be yours--if you have failed, I must... kill you."

Sean turned to the king. "I will not fail you, my lord. For the love I bear you, I will not fail."

The king embraced Sean tightly. "Go, my golden one. But come back to me--for of all the ones who have attempted this task, you have my hope and my love to go with you." Surprised, Sean looked into the king's eyes... and saw his face, shining with love, reflected there. "When I saw you, my heart cried that you would release me from this pain ... and I loved you then," the king said.

"My lord... " Sean started. Uncaring of the audience, the king pressed two long fingers to Sean's lips. "My name is Viggo, Sean. Let me hear it just once."

Sean kissed the king's fingers. "Viggo. Thank you."

The king smiled sadly, but said no more, simply unlocked the doors and opened them. Sean entered, and with one last look back, walked into the princes' room, hearing the click of the lock behind him.

**********

The stories were true, he realized... the princes were beautiful, from the eldest with his reddish hair and blue eyes, to the youngest with brown curls and blue eyes that could pierce a soul.

The eldest--David--led him to a curtained alcove, where he was to sleep, and offered him wine. To be polite, Sean accepted the cup, and brought it to his lips-but mindful of the old soldier's advice, did not drink. Instead, once David's back was turned, he poured it (though not without a wince) into his battered greatcoat.

David turned to take back the cup, now empty, and Sean studied him quickly. He was striking, with his reddish-blond curls and his soulful eyes, and full lips. Were Sean any other man, he could love David for the rest of his life... but his heart was given to the king. David smiled, and became even more lovely, but Sean held steadfast.

David's smile faded, and his voice hardened. "'Tis a pity you should die like the others, my handsome soldier. All that beauty, gone to waste." But Sean turned his face to the wall, covered himself with a blanket, and said nothing.

After a moment's scrutiny, David, believing Sean asleep, walked away, and joined his brothers to dress for the dance. Sean, feigning sleep, listened to the princes dressing, teasing each other. As the youngest fastened his last sleeve-button, David went to check on Sean, and kissed him gently on the lips, a lingering kiss, laughing over his shoulder as he broke the kiss that it was the truest way to tell if they feigned sleep, for who would not react to his kiss? Sean, mindful of his errand, enjoyed the kiss but did not react, and David believed him to be asleep, and walked back to his brothers.

Sean watched through slitted eyes as one of the brothers opened a trap door in the floor, with a long staircase leading down. As soon as they were all lined up to go down the stairs, their backs to him, he jumped up and flung the cloak Patrick had given him around his shoulders, remembering just in time to pull up the hood, and quickly followed after the youngest prince--but a little too quickly, for he stepped slightly on the hem of the prince's fine cloak.

"There is someone with us--someone has trod on my cloak!" The youngest prince cried, but David, impatient, dismissed it as a nail, and the princes continued--with Sean being more careful this time.

Sean followed the princes down the steps and into an underground paradise, a forest of glittering trees bearing not fruit but jewels and gold on their branches--one grove of diamonds, one of emeralds, and one of gold. Sean, thinking quickly, broke off a branch from each of the trees as proof. The diamonds and emeralds broke easily, without a sound--but the crack of the gold branch alerted the youngest. He told the eldest again that someone was following them, but David, used to his youngest brother's ways, maintained that it was only some wild thing, and brushed him off. Sean breathed deeply, reminding himself to be as quiet as possible.

He followed the princes into their boats, steered by beautiful women in fine clothing, sitting with the youngest... who, remembering the boy who cried wolf, kept his mouth shut even though he could feel that there was someone else there. When the boats were drawn ashore, Sean went with the princes and watched them dance, with the lovely women who steered the boats. In particular, his eyes rested upon the eldest prince and his partner, a lovely woman with long blond hair and flashing blue eyes, but so fair she seemed ice-pale. There were jeweled cups on the tables, filled with wine, and when the youngest put his empty cup down, Sean grabbed it and put it into his cloak.

The dancing went on until almost three in the morning, and Sean fought hard to remain alert--but then it broke off abruptly, and the princes, with their ladies, returned to the boats--Sean, still in his cloak, followed them, and he could see that all the princes' shoes were worn through. On the way back across the lake, he sat with David and his lady, and when they reached the forest, Sean ran quickly ahead to return before the others, so that when they returned and David went to check on him, he seemed to be asleep.

Moments after David's footsteps retreated, Sean fell truly asleep until morning .

**********

Morning was heralded by the sound of the king unlocking the doors with his gold key. Dutifully, the king's sons joined their father, and when he looked, their shoes were again worn completely through. With a deep sigh, the king asked his eldest son to awaken Sean, steeling himself for the soldier's failure.

David went to Sean and did so--with a kiss, of course. And this one, Sean had no compunction about responding to... but to teach David a lesson (which Sean felt he sorely needed), Sean took control of the kiss almost immediately, and made it a little rough, biting David's lip gently (but enough to sting) when he broke the kiss. And then, Sean went to the king, remembering just in time to grab his cloak with the night's evidence... leaving David wide-eyed and confused.

King Viggo searched his soldier's eyes as he approached--there was no apology, no confusion. Just warmth and confidence. He began to wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, there might be a happy ending for him and his sons after all.

When Sean stood directly in front of his king, Viggo asked the same question he'd asked all the others, in the same even voice. "Can you tell me, my soldier, where my sons go every night, and why their dancing shoes are worn through to the feet?"

"My lord, I can." Viggo's face broke into a blinding smile... those were the words he'd been hoping to hear for so long.

"Your sons, my lord, are under an enchantment. Every night, they dress in their finest clothing, and walk down a staircase hidden by a trap door in their floor. At the end of those stairs is a wide forest, full of trees bearing not fruit, but diamonds, emeralds, and gold." And here Sean produced the twigs he'd broken off the trees, and handed them to the king.

There was a scuffle behind him as the youngest prince hissed "I told you someone was following us" to his elder brother, who promptly smacked him for being right. Though the sounds ceased quickly enough when the king said, simply, "Gentlemen, that's enough." followed by a stern look.

Sean, his grin wide and unrepentant, continued. "On the other side of that orchard is a wide lake, and on the shore of that lake, twelve boats rowed by twelve beautiful princesses wait to take your sons to the dancing on the meadow at the far side of the lake. In that meadow, there is dancing and all kinds of food and drink, whatever the heart will desire. The drink is finest wine, served in golden goblets... goblets like these." And he handed the youngest prince's jeweled goblet to the king. "And every night, your sons dance with their partners in that paradise until just before dawn-by which time their shoes are worn through at the heels."

David broke in, heedless of his father's glare. "How did you follow us? You were asleep, I saw to it myself!"

Sean smiled, but it was the smile of a predator. "Not everyone is swayed by your beauty, young one--and I have no liking for wine. I did not drink it, and so did not fall into the drugged sleep it would have afforded me. You should have listened to your youngest brother--I was behind you on the way there, and with you on the way back... with this." So saying, Sean flung the cloak about his shoulders, rendering all but his head invisible.

And then Sean hard one of the most beautiful sounds of his life-the king, laughing. "Clever, wise and a good soldier. Thank you, my golden one." And Sean's smile became even wider.

"You have solved this mystery, and as I promised, you shall have your choice of my sons and their share of my land. Choose, Sean. Though," and the king looked briefly rueful, "you must excuse me for a moment of wishing to break my word and keep you for myself. My sons would not appreciate you as well as I could."

Sean smiled. "I am an old soldier, too old for even the eldest--and my heart lies with my king. I would not have your son, my lord, but if you will have me, I will be yours."

"And what of my sons?"

Sean smiled at the eldest. "I believe they will be happier with their dancing-partners, all princesses. For even if I wished your eldest son, whose kisses taste of sunlight" and David had the grace to blush as his father gave him an eyebrow-raised glare, "his heart belongs to another as well--the White Lady." And hearing that, David smiles.

The king smiled. "I will have you, and gladly. But surely there is a boon I could grant you, in return for my sons' lives?"

Sean remembered Patrick, and his promise. "There is, my lord... grant me leave to return this" and he held up the cloak "to the man who lent it to me? Give me two days' grace."

"Granted," said Viggo, "but on one condition--that you return to me, and take my hand and my lands in marriage upon your return."

"I could wish for nothing more, my lord."

Viggo cupped Sean's face, alight with joy, in his broad hands, and kissed him there, in front of his sons and the court. "Bear witness, all here, that you shall have a king to rule with me, at my side and in my heart, until the end of days."

"Heard and witnessed." the crowd responded, and Viggo sealed the vow with another, deeper kiss. And then, he let Sean go, though his eyes followed his golden soldier all the way out of the throne room. Sean turned at the doorway and looked back, love in his eyes... he had all he wanted here, there was no reason not to return.

***********

It took some time to make his way through the king's city and back to Patrick's inn, as all the folk he passed wanted to congratulate him, or wish him well, or simply touch him in hopes that some of his luck would pass to them. But finally, he came to the door of the small inn, which was, oddly enough, empty.

"Never let it be said I can't keep a promise, Patrick."

At the sound of his voice, Patrick spun around, wide-eyed and wary. "Sean! You've come back... or is this another dream?"

Sean stepped over to his friend and enfolded him in a strong embrace. "Aye, it's me... I promised I'd come back, didn't I? After all, I had to return this." And he handed the cloak back to Patrick.

"Saints help us... it worked, then?"

"It did. Thank you, my friend."

"Couldn't let a handsome man like you lose his head, could I? Would be crime, so it would." But Patrick's face belied his joking tone. "Will you be marrying one of the princes, then?"

"Better than that, Pat... I'm set to marry the king himself!"

"Oh, well, that's grand, then."

"Pat? What's wrong?" Sean questioned, confused by his friend's sober look.

"Nothing, sir... it's just, well, you'll forget all about me, up there in the palace."

"I'll do no such thing, Pat! You'll come with me, won't you? I'll need a friend there, among all the great lords... someone who understands a soldier's mind and a soldier's heart. But can you leave your inn?"

"In a moment, if it's to follow you, Sean. If you need me, I'll come."

***********

The morning found them on their way back to the king's city... Patrick had simply closed the door to his inn behind them, saying he'd be back for some of the beer, but whoever found the rest was welcome to it.

Their way back to the palace was slower than when Sean had left, as everyone wanted to know who the stranger was that he brought with him... so it was perhaps no surprise that when the two of them finally reached the palace, the king welcomed them both, having heard already of Patrick.

"I must thank you, sir, for giving Sean the cloak of darkness. Without it, I would not have him here at my side."

"No thanks needed, sire. Just happy to keep him alive myself, you understand."

"Is there anything I can do for you? Sean, you know your friend's mind."

"My love, I can think nothing better than to put Patrick in charge of your wine and beer cellar--he is a fine brewer himself. In fact, if you send a wagon out, you'll be able to taste his fine brew--there are several casks left still at the inn."

"Done, and done. Patrick, does that meet with your approval?"

But Patrick did not answer--he had been ensnared by dark hair and hazel eyes. The second-eldest son of the king, who had refused the hand of his princess. And the prince seemed to be as taken with Patrick.

Sean laughed. "I think, my love, that we might do well to make it a large wedding. But will your son marry a humble brewer?"

Viggo smiled. "Come here, Patrick, and kneel. With your new status as my hospitaller, you are now noble." He touched Patrick on both shoulders with his sword. "Rise, Sir Patrick, and take my son, if he wishes... with my blessing."

"I do wish it, father," said the second-eldest. And Patrick kissed him in thanks.

And so it was that there was a wedding like none ever seen in the kingdom, as each of the king's sons married their dancing princesses (except for the second-eldest, who married his Patrick), and the king and his golden soldier were married last. I know this is true, for I danced at the wedding and ate at the feast. And they all lived happily ever after, until the end of their days.


End file.
